


Nightmare

by LittleSpider



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alive Harry Hart, Fix-It, Hartwin, M/M, Nightmares, Post V-Day, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, comforting Eggsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6213256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is pinned by a familiar nightmare, but this time the cast has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

And so it begins again.

Like it always begins...

With the yowling and yelping. The hooting and whooping. And frenzied cries of ecstatic church goers whipped into a frenzy by the balding pastor's anti-Semitic, racist, and misogynistic spiel and Harry has to sit through it.

Again.

Powerless to do anything but to sit until it was his time to rise up...and kill them all again.

Just like last time.

Except this time, the voice of the pastor changed from a Southern twang to a well spoken, carefully pinched, articulate familiar tone and as he looked up.

He saw Chester. Chester King. Wearing a vivid suit and gesticulating wildly.

He was pointing at Harry.

“I warned you, didn't I? That lower class piece of shit from the gutter led you to ruin! He will never be Kingsman material! Just like his father!”

Next to him, a familiar young woman agreed with a firm: 'Amen!'

It was Roxy, she was dressed in a peach blouse with a conservative collar, her hair loose around her face as she stared with ardent belief at the man at the plinth.

Harry stared at her incredulously.

“...Roxanne?”

No...It hadn't been Chester, and Roxy. It had been that preacher and that narrow minded woman...

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Harry moved to stand up, to get out of there and Roxy looked at him.

“...Where are you going?” she asked, looking at him with cool arrogance.

“...Roxanne.” he began. “...please, don't do this...”

“...What's your problem!?” She asked, standing up to confront him. Her usually measured tone aggressive and shrill.

Harry moved past her quickly, eager to escape the church before what came next, but as he walked past them, down the aisle, he saw not strangers, their eyes twisted in hate and spewing venom from their lips...

But instead they were colleagues, friends.

Kingsmen.

Percival stared up at him, wearing unfamiliar beige pants and a nylon sweater. Kay stood up staring at him, wearing a hideous brown suit. Merlin looked over quizzically from the pipe organ.

Harry looked around, at a loss and then...then it came...

The high pitched whine in his ears...

And Harry made a staggered run to the door before it became too much.

_Not them..._

_Please don't make me kill them..._

Watching his hand raise the gun, until it was in line with her eyes...and put a bullet between them.

And then it began.

The chaos, except this time he was forced to watch with full, and complete understanding of what he was doing and that he didn't want to.

He twisted Kay's neck, snapped it. Put a bullet in Percival's back and head. Put two bullets in Mordred's forehead and beat Merlin to death with a bible. He swung an axe into James' neck, and shattered Gawain's spine by ramming him into a plinth.

He pushed a grenade into Bors mouth and threw him into the choir which was made up of Amelia's tech crew from Berlin and got blown to the floor before taking out his rage on Tristan who was busy strangling Geraint with an altar cloth.

And by the time the whining at stopped, he was face to face with Arthur, having speared him with a broken, wooden pole, blood trickling out of his mouth as he cursed him.

Harry stood there, his breathing coming in snatches.

Blood on his hands, his neck.

Sweat rolling down his face as he staggered through the ruins of his life, in this sacred place, again...

The pain more raw this time than ever before as he made his way out of the church, stepping over te bodies of his friends and victims, only to find Eggsy waiting for him, dressing in his snapback hat, and brightly coloured jacket.

“...Eggsy...” he began, his forehead contorting with pain as he staggered towards the man. “...I killed everyone. I killed them all...I couldn't stop myself...”

Eggsy made a mocking expression, pouting and lifted his hand.

A pistol.

“...It's alright.” he nodded. “...I'll fix you.”

Harry screamed as the hot bullet roared through flesh, blood, bone, brain...

 

*

 

Harry...

Harry!

HA-RRY!

 

*

 

Harry woke with a start and looked up, seeing Eggsy leaned over him, looking worried in the half light of the room, the skin of his chest pale against the sudden glow of the lamp that flicked on beside him.

“...Harry...you was screaming...” he said, his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry swallowed hard and looked up at the man who had, until very recently it seemed, been sleeping peacefully next to him.

Harry lay back, panting into the bedsheets and ran his hand over his left eye.

“...sorry...I...Sorry...”

“...Was it them nightmares again?” Eggsy asked, now sitting back on his calves, looking to him.

Harry repressed nausea from the pain in his eye and remembering the sight, and scent of the church. A false memory built from all of the experience of a real one.

“...It was different this time.” he said thickly.

“What was different?” Eggsy asked.

“...It was the Kingsmen...and you...”

Eggsy looked to Harry sympathetically and ran his hand through his hair, throwing the white scar that ran along the side of Harry's head into shocking relief in the lamplight.

Harry looked at him, and gave him a slight smile and leaned in to his touch, enjoying the comfort of his lover and friend.

Harry opened his arms and Eggsy gladly lay down next to him, snuggling up to the older man, his nose pressed against his neck and his hands wrapped around his waist.

“...We're alright ' _Arthur_ ', your Kingsmen are alright...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wanted to share.


End file.
